CHAPTER 225

**ZION**

The box was still sitting there.

Wide open.

It was daring us to look again.

That damn marble eye—blue, eerily close to hers—was still glinting up from the shredded mess like it was watching me. 

It was more than disturbing—it was fucked up.

The body, if you could even call it that anymore, was slumped in the box like trash.

Organs—what was left of them—spilt out of the open cavity. Intestine, maybe. 

Something wet and shiny. I didn’t even know what I was looking at anymore.

The blood was everywhere

It wasn’t just killed. 

It was destroyed.

Like whoever did this hadn’t just wanted to hurt something—they wanted it to suffer. They wanted to punish it. 

Over and over again.

There was rage in every inch of that box. Uncontrolled, sick, twisted rage.

And then—right on top of all that carnage—was that paper.

Crinkled. Bloodstained.

Her name. 

Written like a signature. 

A final fuck-you.

Winter.

God.

Whoever did this wasn’t just trying to scare her. This wasn’t just some prank or warning.

This was personal.

And I knew, deep in my gut, this wasn’t the last time we’d hear from him.

Not by a long shot.

Winter’s scream was still ringing in my ears, bouncing around my skull like a warning siren I couldn’t shut off.

I’d never heard her make a sound like that before. 

And now I couldn’t unhear it.

I stood there, frozen, rage simmering just beneath my skin. My hands were still curled into fists, like I could punch the horror out of existence.

“This is some next-level sick,” Ro muttered, crouching low near the box.

He gripped a stick—broken from the hedge, maybe—and used it to nudge the box gently, turning it with slow, careful movements. 

His mouth was set in a grim line, but his jaw was clenched tight, twitching like he was fighting the urge to hurl.

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

Ro didn’t look at me. Just prodded the blood-soaked cardboard again, angling it to peek beneath one edge.

“What the fuck does it look like I'm doing...There might be fingerprints or DNA or anything.”

I scoffed, bitterness flooding my tongue. 

“You really think the psycho who did this left a clue behind? This wasn’t a heat-of-the-moment thing, Ro. This was deliberate. Precise.”

Ro’s eyes flicked to mine, dark and steady. 

“Still. People get sloppy. Even monsters.”

Yeah. 

Maybe. 

But whoever had done this didn’t feel sloppy. They felt calculated.

I looked down at the ruined cat again, bile rising in my throat. 

“Whoever did this didn’t just want to scare her,” Harry muttered, crouching slightly as he leaned over Ro’s shoulder. 

He grimaced and lifted the collar of his hoodie over his nose. 

“They wanted control. Power. To show they could get this close—inside her goddamn life—without leaving a trace.”

Too fucking close.

“Someone knew about Toby,” I growled, the words tearing out of me like they burned on the way up.

“Knew she fed him. Talked to him. Loved him. That cat meant something to her. And I—” I swallowed, my throat thick. 

“I didn’t even fucking know he existed. I live under the same fucking roof and I didn’t know.”

My fists curled tight. Jaw locked. 

The rage made my chest feel too small for my lungs.

“Fuck knows how long he’s been watching her,” Clark snapped, his voice tight, eyes hard.

“Watching this house. Close enough to learn her routines—when she leaves, when she’s alone… the shit she doesn’t even say out loud.”

He shook his head, jaw clenching. 

“Close enough to figure out her soft spots. And twist the knife right in.”

He eyed all three of us, voice tight. 

“We need the CCTV pulled now. Every fucking angle. Street, neighbours—fuck, even doorbell cams. Someone had to see something.”

Ro looked up at me, his expression tight, voice low. 

“We need to start thinking smart. This? This isn’t some petty crush or random act. This is an escalation.”

Clark, standing stiff behind us, arms folded like iron across his chest, asked, 

“Escalation to what?”

Ro’s eyes didn’t waver. 

“To something worse. Obsession doesn’t end like this unless it’s leading somewhere darker. This guy’s not just playing games anymore. He’s warning us… testing how far he can go.”

My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat.

Because I already knew exactly who the endgame was.

And I wasn’t letting that happen. 

Not while I was still breathing.

“No one fucking touches my Snowflake,” I hissed, voice shaking with fury. 

“Not while I’m alive. Not even close.”

Ro met my eyes, serious as hell. 

“Neither will we. But this isn’t a schoolyard fight anymore, Z. We play this wrong—we lose her.”

And then—like the universe wanted to test how close I was to completely losing my mind—the last person any of us expected strolled right into the driveway.

Damien

He stood just beyond the driveway, one hand in his hoodie pocket, the other pointing toward the open box like he’d stumbled into the set of a horror movie. 

His brows were drawn, his mouth parted, clearly trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

He froze.

“What the f—” His voice caught, eyes widening, face draining of colour like he’d just walked into a fucking horror movie. 

He stepped back half a pace, mouth parting. 

“What the fuck is that…?”

Shock written all over him. 

Unfuckingbelievable 

He stood there like he belonged.

Like he didn’t just arrive seconds after that box showed up.

And that’s when something inside me snapped.

Three strides. 

That’s all it took.

I slammed Damien into the porch post so hard it groaned beneath us, the wood shuddering all the way to the foundation. 

My fists were twisted in the front of his hoodie, ready to tear it apart.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snarled, breath ragged, heart pounding like a war drum.

“You think you can just show up like nothing happened?” My voice cracked with fury. 

“Like today was the perfect time to crawl out of whatever sewer you came from? And behave like you didn’t know exactly what the fuck just happened?”

Damien’s eyes flared—shock giving way to cold, simmering anger.

“Get your hands off me,” he snapped, shoving at my chest. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Don’t play innocent,” I growled, slamming him back again, harder. The porch post cracked behind him. 

“You showed up right after she screamed her goddamn lungs out—and I’m supposed to believe that’s just bad timing?”

He gritted his teeth. “Are you serious right now?”

“You stalking her now?” I barked, eyes wild. 

“Sitting outside, waiting to see how broken she’d look?”

“Stalking her? I don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about!” Damien roared, grabbing my shirt and dragging me forward. 

“I came because Winter asked me to! Yesterday! We have an assignment!”

“Don’t say her name,” I hissed, shoving him back again, voice like a blade drawn too fast. 

“Don’t you fucking say her name with your filthy mouth.”

“You’ve lost it, man,” Damien snapped.

“Completely fucking gone,” Damien snapped, voice sharp with disbelief. 

“You think I sent that box? That twisted shit? Are you even hearing yourself?”

“Yes,” I ground out, stepping closer until he was forced back against the porch post again.

“Because I saw the way you looked at her yesterday.” My voice dropped, razor-edged.

“Like she was yours to touch..like you had some claim on her. The way your eyes tracked her every move. Like you’d memorised her already. Like you’d been watching."

His face twisted. “You’re out of your mind.”

“You're damn right I am.” I stepped in so close that our foreheads nearly touched. 

“Because she screamed like her soul was being torn apart. And five minutes later, you show up at our door. What am I supposed to think?”

Damien wrenched himself free, fury rolling off him. 

“Think whatever the fuck you want, Royal,” Damien snapped, stepping forward with a sneer curling his lip. 

“But keep your paranoid bullshit to yourself. I don’t have time for your unhinged drama.”

He shoved past, shoulder clipping mine hard.

“Now get the fuck out of my way—I’ve got an assignment to finish, whether you like it or not.”

I yanked him back by the collar so hard he staggered. My face was inches from his, breath hot with fury.

“You’re not getting anywhere near her,” I said, voice like broken glass—low, deadly, final.

“Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”
I shoved him against the post again, the wood groaning behind him.

“So turn the fuck around, and crawl back to whatever gutter you slithered out of—before I bury you in it.”

I leaned in, my voice barely more than a whisper now. 

“And if you so much as glance in her direction.."

I leaned in closer, voice a whisper sharp enough to cut.

“I’ll make sure the only thing you’re looking at next time is the inside of a hospital room—through swollen eyes and a wired jaw.”

He laughed—low, mocking, sleazy.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on here,” he said, brushing dirt off his sleeve like I hadn’t just shoved him into a beam. 

“But don’t look at me like I’m the monster.”

Then his eyes dropped—slowly, deliberately. A predator’s stare.

“But you want me to stop looking at her?” he said, smirking. 

“That’s gonna be real hard, Royal. She’s sexy as sin. And she smells like something made to ruin men.”

He leaned forward a fraction, voice dropping to a murmur meant to sting.

“That assignment? Just an excuse. I don’t give a damn about history. I just wanted to be in the room. And girls like her—ones who make it hard? They always break the sweetest.”

He winked. “She’ll come around. They always do.”

That was it.

I saw red.

Ro and Harry slammed into me from both sides just as I lunged, their arms locking around me like a steel trap. 

I thrashed against them, seeing nothing but red.

“Z! Back the hell off!” Ro snapped, his grip like iron, breath ragged from the effort.

“Didn’t you fucking hear what he just said?” I roared, chest heaving, fists shaking with the need to connect with something—someone.

“Zion!” Harry growled in my ear, voice low and furious. 

“He’s not fucking worth it—don’t give him what he wants!”

My jaw clenched. 

My whole body burned with rage, the taste of blood already in my mouth from biting down too hard.

But I didn’t stop straining. Not yet.

Because Damien was still standing there.

Smirking.

And I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold the monster back.

Damien straightened, smug and breathless. 

“You need help, man. Legit help. I came here to finish an assignment, not get mauled by her psycho bodyguard brother.”

“I’m not her fucking brother!” I roared, struggling like a wild animal.

Clark and Ro were dragging Damien backwards.

“Get. The fuck. Off my property.” I spat, every word shaking with violence.

Damien threw up his hands in mock surrender. 

“Whatever, man. I don’t need this. If Winter still wants to finish the project—if she’s allowed—she can call me.”

He shot me one last look—mocking, smug, vicious.

Then he turned and walked down the driveway like he hadn’t just doused a gasoline-soaked fire.

I stood there, shaking, Harry’s hand still braced against my chest, trying to hold myself together.

Because I wasn’t sure I could hold together.

Not when the girl I swore to protect was still inside—shattered.

And every second he stayed near her was a second too long.